Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, ‘cept myself and the spouse.

Presents she had, I with pen in hand

I was poised to write a scene so grand.

I thought and I scribbled and stared at the page

though nothing came to me, despite all my rage.

I sighed, stood, and looked at the tree

Here is my present, writers block for me.

I know many writers share in my plight

So, Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.